


Making Time

by risquetendencies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, M/M, Older Characters, Smutlet, Top!Kenma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Would it be all right if we didn't talk about work?" Keiji's brows knit together, the rest of his plea cordoned off by hesitation. Kenma watched him mull over the words for a few staggered moments. It wasn't until he opened his mouth again to continue that Kenma realized he'd been holding his breath waiting.</em>
</p>
<p>  <em>"In fact, if we didn't talk at all?" Eyes snapped to seize his, their roles of being on the spot and being the watcher reversing suddenly. </em></p>
<p>  <em>Under such scrutiny, he barely managed a nod. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/gifts).



> Happy birthday Kai! Have this humble offering of smut as my gift; it contains a few tropes I know you're enamored of. I finally took the AkaKen plunge, and it was as fun as it was difficult to write. Sorry there isn't more plot with the porn, but well I think you know what probably happened after this fic leaves off xD. Here's hoping I didn't mess them up. ♥♥♥
> 
> Also a thanks goes out to [@newamsterdam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/newamsterdam/pseuds/newamsterdam/works) for reading this over for me, thank you for your hard work ^-^

Kenma guided the mouse around, clicking through the progress notes on a few of his patients. All of it was routine, nothing stuck out as particularly attention-grabbing or worrisome, but he liked to be prepared. At least, that’s what he was telling himself this afternoon. It was better than staring at the clock, waiting to find out what he was going to be surprised with.

The entire idea of them being spontaneous flouted reality.

NeitherKeiji nor he cared for the unknown; they dealt with it differently, reacted to it with varying degrees of dysfunction, but they both despised it. So for his lover to call him earlier that morning and demand a free block of time from him without telling him what it would be used for… it was unusual. Out of character.

Kuroo had tried to distract him earlier with the newest litter of kittens that had been born, foisting one or two into his hands for some “cuteness therapy,” as he deemed it. And that helped a little. It always helped a little. But not enough to get his mind to quiet down completely.

Whatever it was, he was almost certain it was nothing life-altering. Or terrible. If it was something along that line, or if Keiji wanted to break up with him, there wouldn’t have been a wait. He would have gotten right to the point.

Still, one or two small parts of him wondered if that assessment was true.

Their time together had been limited over the past few months. Keiji chasing Bokuto around promoting his new album, and him with the endless parade of sick or expecting pet patients. Granted Kuroo was doing most of the on-call hours, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t spending more time at the practice than he was at home or out with his boyfriend.

Both of which he sorely missed.

A wispy sigh drifted from him and he sat back in his desk chair, one hand rubbing at his eyes. He felt overwrought physically, but as always, it wasn’t that fatigue that incapacitated him the most.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

What had to be the gentlest knock he’d ever heard nudged at him from the other side of his office door. Turning in his seat, Kenma paused to let the frisson he felt run its course. His wait was over.

A few small steps later and he was at the door, palm hovering over the handle. In a spectacular override of his false calm, his mind provided him a storm of theories of what could be lurking behind it. He knew Keiji was there, but it was more for what purpose. Positive or negative. How he wished he had at least an inkling before going any further. But it didn't matter because as soon as he opened the door, he'd find out.

Gripping the cool metal, he pushed it down, freeing the lock. Then he was staring into a muted green abyss.

Kenma's hold on the door tightened, and he made no immediate move, struck dumb by the weight of the uncertainty he couldn't shake.

Keiji gazed at him appraisingly, a bag slung over one shoulder that looked newer, the sort of bag a person might carry onto a plane. Somehow that didn't soothe him. He tried to grapple with his memories in a split second's time, wondering if he'd forgotten some trip that Keiji had to take. Maybe Bokuto had a concert; that was possible. Keiji tried to go with him to as many as he could stand, for moral support.

"You did clear your schedule, correct?"

If he wasn't occupied with worrying, Kenma might've laughed. Those were the first words out of his lover's mouth when they hadn't seen more than bits and pieces of each other for the last month? And not the bits and pieces he could have hoped for, if he was being honest. Cutting right to the chase as always. Keiji was predictable in that quarter if nothing else.

"Yeah," he settled for answering.

"And how long do we have?"

Kenma's gaze narrowed in speculation. "Two hours, if the next person doesn't show up early."

"Good, then are you going to let me in?"

Maintaining his wariness, he stepped aside to make room, eyes tracking Akaashi as he strode into the office. The mystery bag was deposited on the floor beside the sofa Kenma slept on if he came in at night for emergencies. Its contents seemed likely to remain shrouded if the way he abandoned it to take a seat was any indication. One more loose end to worry about.

Akaashi tilted his head to peer over at him, and then his expression softened.

"I was thinking we haven't gotten any time to ourselves in forever. That's why I asked if you would make some time for me."

Where an array of fears had tangled his heart in a vice grip, he felt the pressure lessen. It really was nothing. No, scratch nothing, it was something he'd wanted. Which meant that he wasn't the only one wondering and craving it. Realizing that unknotted more of the tension caged within him.

Kenma shut the door and joined him on the couch.

They sat there in silence at first, Akaashi absently fiddling with his hands while he pondered how they might spend their stolen time together.

Granted, their relationship had never been one for structured outings. More often than not, a night spent in was more their pace than a show or reservations at a trendy restaurant. But it had been a long time since they'd spent any time together. Kenma wasn't sure if that changed things for Keiji. He could have wanted to do something special based on that.

Yet, given how forthcoming he was acting, perhaps not.

Kenma's eyes darted to the bag lying next to their feet.

"Does Bo have a concert somewhere?" he asked hesitantly, figuring that he'd rather not stew over the possibilities when he was supposed to be relaxed and enjoying his boyfriend's company. Once the questions were dealt with, he could begin to do just that.

Akaashi examined the bag for a fleeting second and then turned back toward him.

"He does have a concert soon, but I won't be attending. It's nothing of consequence and he'll be fine doing it on his own." For some reason Keijilooked reluctant, frustrated to a small degree, which only contributed to his apprehension. "Actually..." he edged closer and then paused, deliberating. Kenma waited, and subsequently felt a hand gently tangling with his.

"Would it be all right if we didn't talk about work?" Keiji's brows knit together, the rest of his plea cordoned off by hesitation. Kenma watched him mull over the words for a few staggered moments. It wasn't until he opened his mouth again to continue that Kenma realized he'd been holding his breath waiting.

"In fact, if we didn't talk at all?" Eyes snapped to seize his, their roles of being on the spot and being the watcher reversing suddenly. 

Under such scrutiny, he barely managed a nod. 

"It's fine," he found himself saying. He didn't care for whatever was making Keiji so uncharacteristically antsy. "Do you want to..." he began, but then realized he wasn't certain what Keiji was asking for.

"...I want to touch you, if that's all right. If it's not, I don't mind if we simply relax in these few hours we have free. I don't particularly want to talk, I suppose. Just to be close to you, Kenma."

That wasn't the answer he was expecting. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't relieved. Keen on it, even. When the alternative was one of the negative scenarios floating around his brain, anything sounded better by comparison. This particular proposition though, he actually wanted despite its forwardness. 

Sweeping his gaze over Akaashi, he felt every fiber of himself relaxing. Where their hands were connected, he caressed a thumb against his lover's skin, receiving a squeeze in return.

"Okay."

Akaashi leaned down to peck him on the mouth.

"I've got a surprise," he said, briefly resting their foreheads together. "If that's all right too."

Kenma nodded, taking in a breath to suppress the feeling of his pulse accelerating. He wasn't concerned; he trusted him with his heart - what was the rest of his body really? He tipped forward again, brushing their lips together, this time for longer, taking all the time he needed to map Keiji out. It had been too long. Long enough that it almost felt new to be so close to him. But familiar enough to still consider it home. 

He was a little excited, in the back of his thoughts. Both just to be doing it at all, and a little for the reveal of whatever the surprise was. It could be a lot of things, but the endless possibilities didn't nettle his nerves for once.

"You'll have to not look until I'm done. Can I have you wear something?"

Akaashi released his grip to pick up the bag he'd brought with him. Something wound up being one of his ties.

At the sight of it, the interest inside Kenma stirred even further. He sat there willingly as the tie was wound around him, blocking off his vision and shrouding him in darkness. What would come after would be worth it, he believed that fully.

Once he'd secured the requisite privacy, Kenma heard Akaashi rise to his feet, the sound of zippers opening and items being rustled around standing out starker now that he couldn't see. Hushed sounds that he knew meant he was undressing, the swish of clothes coming off and being stored away, Keiji's breathing as he went about it all.

From his vantage, Kenma sat there with his mind blank, calmly waiting out the preparations. Still, the moment he was given permission, he was liable to discard his patience quickly if what awaited him was provoking enough.

With one final creak, the time arrived, and as predicted, his peaceful facade faded away.

"Go ahead and remove it. I'm ready for you."

Curiosity overrode everything else in that moment, and he tugged at the tie with an uncharacteristic agility.

As the blindfold lowered, his eyes zoned in immediately on the tableau laid out before him. Keiji wasn't posing per se, but he didn't need to. What he was wearing was sufficient enough on its own to monopolize every ounce of Kenma's attention.

Scrambling to sit up, Kenma fumbled his way through the simple movement, nervousness that had been swirling in his gut morphing into arousal.

Sheer white stockings vined up both of Keiji's legs, clung to the lean musculature of his calves and played up their blunt edges. The garments were capped off by a lace trim, the hem of which stopped just short, leaving a ring of olive skin visible between there and where the main attraction began.

Kenma wasn't sure if it was his fantasy or Keiji's manifesting, because it would be just like him to figure it out without Kenma mentioning it, but he was rendered dumbstruck. Wordless. His brain couldn't process what he was seeing except to direct his eyes to take it all in.

Keiji shifted where he was perched on his desk, the material of the skirt flouncing higher with the slide of his leg. Sliding apart from the other so minimally it could have been a coincidence. But Kenma knew it wasn't. Effortlessly as he was acting, Keiji was testing him. Or putting on a show, perhaps, if he was being straightforward. Golden eyes flickered to where he was meant to look.

Whatever the reason, Keiji was dedicated, because the stockings matched what was beneath his skirt.

Focusing in on the picture of him sitting there, Kenma stiffened, mind whirring as it came up with possibilities, plans.

Surprise was a generous word for what the end result had turned out to be. They hadn't had the time for anything so complicated in ages, but he wasn't about to protest being granted that opportunity now. Not when it was obvious that they both liked it. Simple touches, along with mundane conversations could be put aside for later. For now he'd indulge himself.

"So you like it then." There was only the smallest hint of gloating in Akaashi's tone.

Kenma pursed his lips, some vestige of pride keeping him from admitting he did. But then his good sense chimed in, reminding him that this didn't have to be a battle of wits. It wasn't like they both hadn't felt lonely, that was what had driven Keiji to organize this entire time to begin with.

Finding his voice, he leaned forward in his seat.

"You look really good," he confirmed softly. "Come closer?"

Akaashi's genuine smiles were captivating in general, but the one he wore as he began to saunter over was enthralling. Kenma tilted his head up, determined to keep it in his line of sight even as his lover's taller form began to loom over where he was sitting. Keiji stopped just short of the sofa, standing in front of him with idle, uncertain hands dangling at his sides.

Kenma then decided he would show him.

Raising one of his own, he traced the edges of the lace crowning Akaashi's stockings, thumbing the peaks and valleys of the embroidery with reverence in the gestures. The fabric was soft. Textured where the stitches overlapped, but ultimately soft. Yet nothing beat the smooth warmth of Keiji's thigh as he moved over it, creeping under the hem of the skirt to explore other textures.

Silk swathed the skin where his hip bones jutted out and pulled tight over where his swelling length filled their bounds. Kenma's fingers lingered to one hip, his ears concentrated on absorbing the needful breaths reaching down from on high. Keiji was inert under his touch, but he knew that if he were in a place to hear his pulse, it would beat cacophonously in anticipation. Which on the whole, wasn't much better off than him.

Realizing that lent a smudge of color to his face.

As restive as they could be together, sometimes Keiji overstimulated him more than anyone else he'd ever met. He wasn't overwhelming as people went, but more he understood him on levels no one had ever broached before. It was hard to exist without it for too long now that he knew what it felt like for someone to know him so thoroughly. Yes, he'd missed being with Keiji these past weeks. But he didn't necessarily need to speak to tell him that.

The previously faint noises raining down on him only grew more audible as he scooted his body forward, head nudging underneath the skirt. Before he even made contact, Akaashi groaned preemptively, a hand dropping to steady Kenma where the base of his neck and shoulders aligned. It was a form of encouragement that made him smile where he was hidden away, right before he returned to his objective.

Mouthing at his inner thigh, Kenma kissed his way to where the flesh had the most give, feeling Keiji's legs splay the minutest amount wider where he was standing. Providing him all the space he needed.

It didn't quite stop him from brushing even more sensitive areas inadvertently in his search or stop Keiji drawing a hand through his hair, the motions stoking the lazy heat steadily building within him. Sometimes being slower had its advantages, and getting to watch before he lost himself to the headiness of sex was the paramount among those.

Fitting his lips over the skin, Kenma suckled it between them, coaxing redness to the surface that would fade to purple if he was thorough enough. His cock twitched where it was trapped in his pants, the lingering taste of spice on Keiji's skin enticing as it ever was to him. He pulled back only to surge forward with his teeth, nipping at the beginning of his mark as a groan echoed overhead.

He agreed with the unspoken message. It had been too long since the last time he'd gotten to remind Keiji who he belonged to. The marks he bestowed weren't for anyone else's benefit but his after all.

Sinking in deeper, he registered an upswing in volume, accompanied by a roughness in the fingers massaging his scalp. Tilting his head up, he eased off some of the pressure, the push of his head against Keiji's hand a message of its own - that he was listening, that he understood his need. Biting relapsed into soft sucks over the bruised skin, and Keiji's fingers gradually unclenched in response.

At length he backed off, observing the patch of color left behind, pressing against it with one final slide of his lips.

Satisfied, his eyes roved higher, blinking at Keiji's cock, now fully engorged and slotted between the top of his panties and the flatness of his lower abdomen. The head of it was visibly wet, and the more Kenma stared, the more he felt his mouth water. Any patience he was harboring swiftly fell away in favor of following his desire.

Hands sliding up the lean lines of Akaashi's sides, he gathered the fabric shielding his lover in both fists and began lowering it, letting his erection bounce free from confinement.

There was a whine somewhere in the periphery as he worked the silk down Keiji's legs, mouth huffing cruel gusts of warmth over his pearling tip. But not yet touching. And as much as he was inevitably waiting, Keiji knew better than to rush him. He'd taught him that lesson long ago.

When the offending garment lay pooled on the floor, Kenma moved once more, turning the opposite thigh to mark it. Quicker that time, teeth skating over the tender skin without artistry. A detail that Keiji didn't seem to mind, judging by the accompanying exhale. It wasn't until Kenma's fingers wandered back, tracing behind his balls to rub the sensitive skin there that he protested, hips stuttering just short of a thrust.

Slipping out from beneath the skirt, Kenma fixed his gaze studiously on him, sliding a digit further back to nudge at his puckered opening.

The look Akaashi shot him was prideful and yet eager, which in the end decided him.

Removing his hands entirely, he slunk back into his seat.

"Did you bring some?" he inquired, though it didn't take much brainpower to assume that Akaashi's bag likely concealed a lot of things. None of them work-related, as Kenma had come to find out. It would be shocking if he skimped on the necessities given that fact.

"Of course."

Dipping down, he reached for the bag, opening one of the pockets and producing a bottle of lube.

Kenma took the opportunity to reflect on the way the skirt draped the curves of Keiji's ass. The view from where he was sitting versus where it had been; he wasn't sure which he ultimately preferred. Either way, he had a mind to expand his lover's wardrobe past tonight. Clothes rarely looked unflattering on Keiji but this stood out as a prime example of just how striking he could look given the right attire.

Catching the bottle when it was thrown, Kenma glossed his tongue over his lips. The lack of attention on him wasn't concerning; he rather enjoyed exploring what Keiji had to offer.

"Wait."

Akaashi's voice was low, quiescent but it snagged his ear nonetheless.

"I want to watch," he clarified at the questioning glance. Putting his hands to work once more, he rearranged the skirt, tucking some of the fabric up into the waistband to leave his front exposed, clear for viewing.

"Mm," Kenma responded, the tiniest of smiles surfacing. That was something they both liked, so he fully understood the request.

Tilting his head, he laved at the side of Keiji's arousal, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he began to concentrate. Drawing his tongue along the shaft firm and straight until he reached the top. Ducking to treat the underside with a chorus of rampant licks, tongue rubbing the curve of the head without any semblance of mercy.

Gasps fell from his lover's lips like normal breaths, each one more indignant than the rest despite his lack of movement. When Kenma reached to caress his swollen globes, rolling them in his palm, gasps exploded into fierce grunts, the noises easily broadcasting his withering restraint.

"Kenma..."

Kenma bent to suck at one of the taut sacs, taking the flesh into his mouth and lavishing the sweetest pressure upon it. Akaashi's fingers tugged abruptly at the root of his hair, impatient and wanting.

" _Kenma_..."

A more insistent voice he noted, choking his own gasp around Keiji's skin as his scalp was abused. His clothing felt tight, but not as direly so as the tension inside his lover was at this point.

Stifling himself, Kenma retreated, sitting back and uncapping the lube. As he slicked down his fingers, he felt a watchful gaze on him, one that bordered on impatient. Flicking his eyes back at his boyfriend, he took a quick assessment of his condition. More than anything, he wanted not to push him too far past his limits. Not tonight, that was. Perhaps another.

"Keiji," he called, matching their gazes. He received a curious stare in return. "Do you want-?"

"Hurry," Akaashi emphasized, clearly not wanting to mince words. "I might if you don't, but that isn't what I'd prefer. I want to feel you when I come."

A shiver coursed through Kenma at the honest answer.

Keiji could be incredibly motivating at times.

He sidled closer again and took the head of his cock between his lips, humming around the swollen tip. His hand trailed back, wasting no time in hooking a finger into Keiji, slowly massaging the tight walls with little nudges until he took him in more smoothly. One knuckle, and then the rest, digit driving up into him at a demanding pace. As if to reward him, Kenma swallowed down more of his shaft, softly dragging his tongue around the submerged length.

Akaashi wasn't trying to disguise his pleasure anymore, letting every noise have free reign. When Kenma slipped the tip of another finger into him, he chorused out a needy moan, hips trembling as he concentrated on keeping still, allowing his lover to hold the reins.

When two digits were comfortably seated inside him, Kenma paused. A hand rose to cup Keiji's side, and he tugged on it suggestively, eyes straining upward to try and signal his intention.

Akaashi curbed his breathing and licked at his lip to salve the dry feeling, gazing down at where they were entangled. His heart was thundering in his chest as it was; concentration or higher thought weren't things he had much of currently. Still, he understood, and he wanted.

Lifting his leg, he draped it over Kenma's shoulder for leverage, rocking deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. Kenma's fingers slid down his thigh, pinching the skin just above the trim of his stocking before rubbing back up, abetting the thrust of him as he strove further.

Feverish and swimming in the low buzz of desire, Akaashi gasped as the throbbing head of his cock pressed into the suction of his lover's throat. The friction was overwhelming, and despite his earlier request, he began to consider an alternative.

Kenma's lips flush against him, spilling his seed inside, encased and stimulated by every soft suck and reactive swallow, the vibration as he trilled out his own notes of pleasure. Left over droplets flecking his lover's skin for him to kiss away, to share between their tongues. It was hard to see the downside of that option.

And yet, there wasn't really a downside to the original plan either.

Shivering at the possibilities, he canted forward again, moaning when he felt Kenma's throat contract around his cock. A sound that rapidly loudened when three fingers shoved, blunt and precise, against his prostate.

Akaashi choked back the outburst, chest aching from the restraint of holding everything in. Multiple sensations registered at once. Too many to keep track of. He was ragged and out of breath, the inside of him slick and stretched, coiled tight with mounting ecstasy. He both did and didn't want to let what had built boil over. 

Sagging on his feet, his eyes hooded over, flickering hazily down to spy the top of Kenma's head, which was slowly easing off of him, pulling back until they were disconnected. Probably sensing the gaze trained on him, the blond looked up, studying his expression.

Then with a secretive smile, Kenma climbed to his feet, nudging Akaashi backwards to make room for him to stand.

His smile didn't fade when he felt greedy hands settle on the waistband of his pants, tugging them loose. He merely reciprocated, stealing a kiss while the taller male worked on disrobing them both.

Content with the small indulgence, Kenma made no move to help, knowing from experience that getting in the way was dangerous. Keiji was at the point where he just  _did_. All courtesy had evacuated him this far along, and it wouldn't surface again until he was satisfied.

In no time at all, he was half bare and being pushed back onto the sofa, Akaashi unceremoniously mounting his lap and pinning him to the cushions. Lube changed hands between them and once it did he was the one clinging to the threads of control left to him with how ardently Keiji's fist dragged over his cock, readying it with frantic but thorough pumps.

Kenma tilted his head back, feeling it sink into the softness of the seat. It wasn't until his lover's hand stilled that he chanced a look again, and then he was groaning at the picture spread out before him.

Keiji kneeling over him, a blush fanning from the head of his erection and up his stomach and chest, half heat, half arousal. Sweat glistened at his temples, matted some of the dark curls framing his face. He was panting and desperate, but gorgeous as ever, and frankly, Kenma doubted he'd ever tire of the view.

Positioning his hands on the other's splayed thighs, he hooked his fingers around the bend of his knee and then he was sinking into him, feeling Akaashi's body clench possessively around him the deeper he pressed. Green eyes stared intensely back at him once they were flush together, and he caressed down the expanse of his arm before guiding his hand to wrap around Akaashi's slick length.

He knew better than to refuse the request entirely, but that didn't mean he couldn't mess around a little fulfilling it. It wouldn't be long for either of them, so he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest.

Tantalizing him with firm but slow strokes, Kenma leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"You look so pretty like this, Keiji."

A grin lined his lips as he heard the sharp intake of breath that signaled interest. His lover's mind was fogged at the moment, and whether he'd guessed how his gamble would pay off or not in the beginning, anything was liable to tip him over the edge currently. Whether a compliment or a suggestion of things to come.

Akaashi stared down into his eyes, lost and seeking.

"Do you feel good with me inside you?" Kenma threw out there. If he wasn't getting the look he was now, he never would have had the gall to say it. But Keiji tended to embolden him in surprising ways. "Is that what you missed most?"

Lips reached to crush wetly against his, Akaashi's gasps punctuating the air between them as he upped the pace of his hand below. His hips were jerking into the grasp with precision, rutting against his palm for the friction it provided.

Kenma focused in on their entanglement, his tongue curling over Keiji's and feeling the ridges of his mouth, slick and soft. When he pulled back, he chased him for a moment, chastising him with a stinging bite to his lower lip. 

For a time,Kenma just watched, hand giving Akaashi a few quickening strokes. His eyes raked over the vision of his lover's lean torso on display, lower half haphazardly covered by his skirt. The material was rucked higher, sitting out of place and off kilter from where it ought to be. It still looked a hundred times better than it had a right to. And he wasn't ready to let go of the fantasy yet.

Steadying his hands on Keiji's flanks, he began rocking up hard, watching the appeased look on his face shatter, mouth parting and teeth clenching at a particularly agile thrust. Unconscious of it, he rolled his hips to meet him, arms wrapping around Kenma's shoulders like an anchor.

Akaashi's eyes scrunched shut, lips murmuring something unintelligible as they ground against each other, rubbing at the perfect spot inside. Fluid bubbled up from the slit of his cock, dripping down to create wet patches on the front of his skirt, the fabric spotted with darker pieces.

Kenma could see the strain of his muscles as he rode his cock, the concentration on chasing the trigger that would ignite all of his built up tension. Even as his whispered sounds grew harder to discern, he never slowed, circling his hips until he was writhing, coming apart above him.

"So good, Keiji," he hissed softly, voice warped from the sudden tightness encasing him. His fingers moved to massage at the small of his back, stroking out a gentle rhythm. "Let go for me."

He was drowned out by a raspy moan and then Akaashi's lips cementing against his mouth, his lover still rocking feebly through the throes of his climax. Kenma returned the gesture, pistoning up as best as he could with the way his body clung to him. Their tongues sought each other, tangling in open air lazily, twin gasps shared between them when breathing became a remembered priority. 

At length, Keiji bottomed out from the high, and linked their gazes, dragging friction with the renewed rise and fall of his hips.

They were calculated movements, mixed with his muscles clenching around the girth of him, milking out sensation that had Kenma arching back into the cushions, nails digging into whatever of his partner he could grasp. Keiji always took care of him, bringing him to the brink with knowing tricks. It didn't matter what they tried because there was that reassurance.

He loved it; he loved him most of all.

Moaning wearily, he gave one last thrust before he spilled, body shuddering as it surrendered to the waves of pleasure lapping at him. In the periphery he heard Keiji deliver an equally tired moan, and his hands tightened where they rested on him. When the moment passed, he slumped forward, dropping his head onto Kenma's shoulder.

"...I wish we had more time," he said after a spell, the statement muffled.

Kenma held onto him as his breathing evened. He didn't want to move either. He didn't want to not have Keiji to himself again. Reality dictated that they'd have to be apart on occasion, but falling out of step with each other had been a mistake. They could do better, he thought. Try harder to make their conflicting schedules work.

Snuggling closer to his boyfriend's warmth, his next words were resolute and as close to optimistic as he ever came.

"Then we'll just have to make time."


End file.
